(Poem 32 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Oh, Moses, what have you done?
Your grudge against Egypt has
bound an entire people to stone,
made monsters of the very images
they destroyed out of fear, and
made them guilty of the blood of
their brothers of other mothers.

Poor Moses, torn between
the people of your birth
and your adopted culture,
millions have endured
the weight of your words.

Dear, Moses, the generation of
Jubilee is upon us, our freedom
established by the edicts written
in the blood of every life lost
in the name of inheritance,
promised land, birthright,
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

No, Moses, no longer do the
grievous burdens chain us to your
commands and dictates.
We are newborn.
We are released from bondage.
We are free.

@Home Studio – 32^nd poem of the year